Destructive DNA and Infuriated Flames
by UnluckyMustangXIII
Summary: The Ishbalian Massacre had a survivor, a powerful Alchemist. To protect his crown King Bradley wants to keep her under his thumb. Now, Roy Mustang is assigned to make her a state Alchemist, with a few surprises. Mustangoc


Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist in any way, shape, or form. However, if whoever owns it would like to sell me Roy Mustang and/or Edward Elric I would gladly oblige. (Evil Grin)

Al: Hey, what about me?

UMXIII: Oh Al, I didn't forget about you, but sadly the owner is going to sell you to the cat food plants so they can use your body to make tin cans. You know, to feed all those kitties you always seem to attract.

Al: WHAT! Brother, is that true? (runs to Ed while anime streams of tears spill from his eyes, leaving puddles in his wake)

Ed: Of course it isn't. (Consoles Al. When the streams finally stop he looks at UMXIII and glares, and whispering under his breath says) You aren't suppose to tell him that until we're absolutely sure that there is no Philosopher's stone, and even then the military might pay more to use him for the metal in the amplification watches.

UMXII: EDWARD! I was just joking. I can't believe you'd sell out your own brother!

Ed: YOU MEAN YOU GOT AL ALL WORKED UP FOR THE SAKE OF SOME JOKE! WHAT KIND OF TWISTED FREAK ARE YOU?

UMXIII: Well, at least I wouldn't sell out my own brother, even if he was to stay as a suit of armor forever.

Mustang: They'll be at it for a while. Anyway, here's the chapter.

Al: So she really wouldn't buy me, if I were for sale?

Mustang: Would you want her to?

Al: Good point.

Chapter 1: King Bradley's Conclusion

Fuhrer's Point of View

A limousine had arrived at the State Alchemist's Headquarters not more than two hours ago. The chauffer stood by the rear right hand door loitering, ON GOVERNMENT PROPERTY NO LESS! So as the Fuhrer of the Alchemic department of the military I made it my business to find out what this weirdo needed. I walked up to him, hand on the gun in my holster (just because I lead the Alchemist doesn't mean I am one!) and began questioning him about his unwanted presence on the land King Bradley had so generously presented to the military. Oh, but as I soon found out this man work for no other than the king himself. The driver asked that I please accompany him to the royal castle, upon his majesty's request, and now here I am.

The castle grows more beautiful with each coming visit, but my favorite part of the palace would have to be the Kings chamber's. His room sits just on the other side of those mahogany doors so elaborately carved it puts most sculptors to shame. Wood depictions of wailing beings in torment and agony, crying for a hero to save them. Then sadly realizing he never will. I had always loved these doors, they show visitors a small glimpse of the cruelty that lies beyond them.

3rd Person P.O.V.

The Fuhrer knocked once, and only once. It seemed the star crossed gaze of admiration had vanished for the fist time since entering this castle, but only a few can smile at their own demise, and he is not one of them. The Fuhrer had just realized that his career, freedom, neigh his very life lay on what King Bradley has to speak with him about. The Fuhrer knew King Bradley was not a kind man, if he decided to take a vow of silence for a day and make a decree so that his entire kingdom must do the same he would kill man if they let out a guttural grunt at work, woman if that squeaked when they sneezed, mothers for hushing their babies to sleep, and infants for crying out of hunger. If anyone chose to question him about it he would simple brush it of as a crime committed against his crown and deserving of death.

The Fuhrer took a deep breath and knew he could not keep Bradley waiting, any longer. The military-man entered and walked slowly to the front of the desk the king was sitting at. He knelt. This was his silent vow of allegiance to his King. This was his wordless surrender.

The King just looked down and silently shut the folder he was reading from. Calmly, he said, "Please Fuhrer, get up." the Fuhrer stood to his feet at once; he was, however, terribly self-conscious about the way he was dresses. Today was laundry day and the uniform he was wearing was terribly tight across the chest and back. He could not move his arms as well as he would have like, either. Of course, he remained silent about his complaints and the king began to talk again.

"You have served me many long years, I might even consider you to be my friend, but as always the idea is preposterous." The Fuhrer gulped, and as the king saw the rhythmic bob of his Adam's apple, he let out a bark of laughter. Bradley was clearly enjoying his suffering, he took a moment to revel in it. When he was doing so the Fuhrer took the opportunity to sneak a quick glance at the file that rest in front of his superior. "General Amadeus Alchemic Academy" he read.

'Why am I here? What does that that place have to do with me?' he wondered toughly confused by this time. Rather unlucky to, because caught his eyes wandering and realized that he was looking at his desk rather than him, deduced that what he ways looking at and easily deciphered that lost look on his face. However, King Bradley always thought toying with people's emotion was quite fun.

"Tell me Fuhrer, what was the point of the Ishbalian War?"

"The point, your highness, was to eliminate the Ishbalians."

"And why did we want to eliminate them?"

"Because we wanted to serve you, and it was your order, Sir"

"Do you know the reason I ordered that, Fuhrer?"

"No sir, I can't say that I do."

Just then one of the most despicable and vile smiles crept onto King Bradley's face, "It's because they are the Forsaken Ones." he said. Looking as if a cat would when toying with a half dead mouse.

"Forsaken Ones, Sir?" inquired the Fuhrer

"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk, I can't believe you're in the dark on this subject, you pioneered the Ishbalian Massacre, all-be-it, from you cushioned chair."

The Fuhrer could barely resist the erg to ask again, he felt as if he would not get his answer fast enough, but from the way things were going maybe that was a good thing. He kept his silence.

The king gave him a smug look that meant he was waiting for that comment, but after a while He continued, "The forsaken Ones are the children of Ishbala, not all the children, only a few."

"Then why did we have to kill them all?"

"Because if any are left alive and breed they may have offspring that are Forsaken Ones."

"Yes, Your majesty, but what are forsaken ones?"

"Do you know why we cannot perform human alchemy?"

The Fuhrer tried to hide his frustration about not getting the answer he sought, it was futile, but he played along.

"Because it's forbidden, My Liege."

"Yes, it is forbidden to us, because if we tried to alter human flesh ours would be altered as well. Do you know why?"

"No Sir"

"Because we do not have transmuted DNA. You know, not everyone can become an alchemist, and the ones that work day and night may never be as good as the slackers. It all depends on how much of their DNA is transmuted."

"Why is transmuted DNA so important, sir?" he asked truly fascinated.

"Transmuted DNA allows the energy summoned by a transmutation circle to flow through the body with greater ease so that the effects of equivalent exchange are minimized. some have more than others but the children of Ishbala, the Forsaken Ones are living Philosopher's stones!"

"So why did you kill them off?"

"Because if a rebellion were to occur they would be a powerful enemy and I enjoy the crown too much."

The Fuhrer, however ecstatic about hearing the news of an art he thought he had nothing more to learn about, couldn't piece the to together. Why was he here? He could no sooner ask the question that the king began to speak again.

"Every free-range Isbalian is terrified of what the scriptures have to say where alchemy is concerned, and almost every Forsaken One who has an interest in alchemy has been dealt with."

"Almost?"

"There is one still alive. We can't kill her because, as it stand, she is a very talented violinist, famous even."

"Your worried someone would notice her disappearance."

"Yes"

"What do you propose we do?"

"I want you to make her a state Alchemist."


End file.
